about me

What are the odds?

There was a time when I was on track towards growing up to be a man of character, integrity and dignity.
Then puberty hit.
2 million years of hormonal evolution started coursing through my veins, forcing me head first into a testosterone fueled tournament of one-upmanship with every other male in my school to spread my seed into, onto or in the general direction of any woman I could.
To this day puberty was the single most difficult, life altering adjustment I have ever had to make.
I didn’t understand it then. I don’t understand it now, but I have learned to live with it.
But when it first hit, I thought about things I had never thought before and about people I had never thought about.
Every teacher, bus driver, the school nurse, secretary, the lunch lady, the lunch room supervisors, custodial staff, my friends mothers and older sisters, no one was spared from my X rated, indecorous thoughts.
I am not exaggerating. If they were a woman I thought about it.
And they didn’t even need to be real women either.
I thought about comic book women and video game women too.
I thought the girl that you save from the gorilla on Donkey Kong was fine.
No one was safe.
And what was most disturbing about all of this was the fact that prior to puberty I never particularly cared for girls.
I mean, I thought a few of them were cute. But it was a completely different kind of “cute” than I would use post-puberty.
Prepubescent “cute” was cute like a puppy is cute.
Now cute was how you differentiated from the girl who knew why you were looking at her the way you did from the ones that didn’t.
I still remember who my first crush was on, her name was Denise and I was in the third grade. Then there was Janine was in the fourth grade, Erin in the fifth grade and Nicole in the sixth grade.
But a crush back then was nothing like it was now.
Now that puberty hit, so much of who I used to be didn’t exist anymore.
I couldn’t even tell you what a prepubescent crush would have been based on now.
It couldn’t have been on what they looked like.
Hell, how could it have been based on what they looked like? They looked like boys with pigtails.
We weren’t like kids today that seem to be fully developed sixteen year old twelve year olds.
At twelve we looked eleven. I looked nine.
But something had clicked by the time seventh grade started in the fall of 1984.
I had pubes.
I had acne.
I had a cracking voice.
I had long feet.
I had long fingers.
I had everything but gained a single pound.
I was still all of 75 pounds, maybe 80 tops, and most of that was Afro.
But now I felt I needed to compete with all of the other boys in the school for the attention of these most beautiful, sweet smelling creatures whose acceptance or rejection was now the be all and end all of my worth as a man.
As suddenly as it hit me, it seemed to have hit all of us. We are all like this.
Every dude I knew except maybe Tom had seemed to been contaminated with this contagion that overnight elongated your feet and fingers, shredded your voice, made you suffer insatiable hunger, oily skin, musty under arms and fuzzy nuts.
Before we were infected, all we ever cared about was playing ball, riding our bikes, trading cards, and playing video games.
Now we still wanted to play ball, ride our bikes and what not, but only if it was in front of an audience of girls.
If there weren’t going to be any girls around to witnesses whatever it was you were doing then there was no point in doing to it.
It was like that age old question “if a tree falls in the forest and if no one is there to hear it, does the tree make a sound?”
Sounds like a stupid question right?
Well if you were playing hoops and scored on the most amazing, off balance, three pointer to win the game, and there was no girl there to see it, who gives a damn?
I didn’t even like girls. Prior to this force majeure that was ravaging my body that a times seemed to be indecisively teetering between changing me into a man or a werewolf, I never had a single conversation with a girl that worth remembering.
I like Transformers and GI Joe, they liked stuffed animals and writing on their shoes with colored markers.
There was nothing there to build on. We couldn’t have been more different.
Now I paid attention to every syllable they spoke and I looked for any weakness I could exploit to find a way in.
Into what?
I don’t know.
What do you think you are going to do with “it” when you find “it”?
Again, I don’t know. I will cross that bridge when I get to “it”.
Well seventh grade was the year that I first laid eyes on “it”.
“It” was Lisa Mason.
Lisa had a Gerri curl. Lisa had an ass. Lisa was fine. She looked like a younger version of that girl Michael Jackson was trying to chase down and eat in his Thriller video.
Nuff said.
In retrospect I am sure that was the look she was going for and it worked for her.
She was a new girl to our school. Junior High was where several neighborhood elementary schools all piled into one hodgepodge of 7th, 8th and 9th graders.
Well she wasn’t from any of the elementary schools that fed into this one.
So she was actually new in every sense of the word. Every guy was starting out even. No one could claim an advantage of knowing her before anyone else.
Actually, I didn’t even know why she was going to our school to tell you the truth, she didn’t even live anywhere near any of us, but I didn’t give a damn about any of that.
Lisa wasn’t like the other girls. Lisa didn’t walk like the other girls. Lisa didn’t chew gum like the other girls. She didn’t play with her hair like the other girls. She twirled her foot in little half circles when her legs were crossed. Girls didn’t do that. Women did that. When she spoke to you she looked directly into your eyes.
And her smile…damn that smile of hers.
She broke the rules in every good way you could break them.
Before Lisa, girls liked dumb things like Monchichi, Barbie, coloring books, and stuffed animals.
Lisa liked boys.
And we liked Lisa.
Before we left High School I hear that she had also managed to do a few other things that most of the other girls hadn’t done by their early twenties which is pop out a few kids.
So evidently I wasn’t the only one that noticed that she wasn’t like the other girls.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
I started making a list of advantages and disadvantages. I had far more advantages than disadvantages.
Besides Lisa being the new girl, I also had a locker that was by Lisa’s. Check.
We were both in House B. That basically amounted to us having the same lunch period. Check.
Her home room was in the classroom kitty-corner to my homeroom as well. Check.
But what I didn’t have were any classes with her. Now that was a big strike against me.
That meant I didn’t have much time to make a positive impression. Had we shared a few classes together I could take my time, but since I didn’t have that luxury, I had to do something that would have her thinking about me while she was being fawned over by all of the other guys who could work on her day in and day out in class.
The film Purple Rain had just come out. And on what little money my father would give me to get my comic books every other week I had skipped my comics, saved up and bought Lisa a copy of Purple Rain.
I was just a nice guy like that.
I came to school one day and gave it to her.
I know, I sound like a stalker. And I probably was one in the making but your plan has to fail to be a stalker. This one worked.
She was appreciative.
You sound surprised.
I mean, wouldn’t you be? The first time some guy that you had no idea you even shared an existence with on this earth walks up to you just before the last period on Friday and hands you a brand new cassette of the hottest album of the year?
C’mon ladies that shouldn’t freak you out.
Well Lisa didn’t freak out. In fact she actually gave me a kiss on the cheek…just before I turn around and ran away down the hallway full sprint without saying a word.
“Getting women isn’t that hard,” I thought to myself. “Kinda expensive, but it isn’t hard.”
All I could think about during the final period was “why I did I run?”
Must’ve been the hormones. Then again, maybe I just didn’t want her to give me the tape back.
Well that is neither here nor there now. What’s done is done. At least she took it. And my timing couldn’t have been better.
I gave it to her before last period so that the guys that she normally had hovering around her would see that I was on the block.
I had inserted my name into the tournament. If they wanted Lisa’s attention they were going to have to contend with me. Sure they could go out and buy her something too but that is old now. You would just be following in my footsteps. And that is what I want them to do. I am an original. I’m a gamer. It’s all about me and Lisa. They can’t even begin to understand what we have. This is special. This is the kind of stuff you make movies about. So what if I weighed as much as Prince and was twice his height by the seventh grade? He didn’t seem to have any problems getting women.
Everything I need to know about getting a woman I learned from Purple Rain.
If I played it right from here on out I shouldn’t have to do anything else but just look disinterested.
If I’m correct, just like Apollonia was all over Prince’s nuts after she heard him perform on stage, Lisa should be all over mine after I get out of this class…in three, two, one…
The final school bell rings.
Life shouldn’t be this easy.
Well after I got out of class who do you think was waiting for me at my locker?
Lisa?
Yep.
And she was really an interesting girl considering.
Considering that she was the first girl that I had ever talked to that I actually gave a damn what she was saying to me.
She tried to give the tape back to me but I insisted that she keep it. It was just a tape. I acted like I had about eleventybillion of them just laying around my room still wrapped in plastic with the barcode still on them.
I wouldn’t miss it.
I wish I could tell her what I had to sacrifice to get that tape. She was holding two weeks worth of comics that I had to pass on to get that tape in her pretty little hand.
She didn’t really want to give it back. She just didn’t want to look like a groak. Besides, like I said, as far as she was concerned I only popped into existence an hour ago. She had no idea who I even was.
So I walked her to the bus stop. We talked. We laughed.
There we were the two of us walking towards the buses through the snow with a picturesque view of the front of my middle school behind us. For a few minutes there, as we walked along side all of the busses that were lined up to take the kids home for the weekend we were no doubt the center of attention of all of the haters that would have to languish all weekend on how they can get back into a game that I had already won.
I had Lisa. She had me.
But then we kept on walking past all of the buses.
For whatever reason she didn’t take the school bus like every kid that didn’t walk to school, she took the city bus. Normally my spider-sense would have started tingling at this point, I have a knack for picking out things that just don’t fit, but my spider-sense all but stopped working just like my voice around same the time that I caught this puberty thing.
She could have been leading me towards the walls of Mordor and I wouldn’t have noticed.
Damn hormones.
So I waited with her at the city bus stop while all of the yellow buses pulled away.
No matter. Besides, I could use this time to get to know my new woman, you know, in case anyone asks me questions that a boyfriend should know…whatever that is.
While she talked to me and dare I say even “flirted” a little, I just tried my best to look in control of things while I tried not to freeze to death.
When she flirted with me I really didn’t know how to flirt back so I just stared at her a lot and nodded during the uncomfortable silences.
When in doubt, nod slowly and smile knowingly. At the time I had no idea where I had picked that up from but it turned out I had gotten that too from Prince, who was probably told to do the same thing when they figured out that he couldn’t act.
If things keep working this well Lisa and I are going to have to name our first kid Prince.
She did most of the talking, until I guess to break my concentration from off her chest she snatched my ear muffs off my head and dared me to get them back from her.
If I wasn’t sick will this puberty thing I would have tackled her ass and got my ear muffs back before my ears turned red.
But now I was flattered.
And instead of going after her full sprint I actually let her get away.
That was a change. I really didn’t want those damn ear muffs back. Besides there is only so much you can move with a hard on in blue jeans.
They were hers.
Then as if on cue the bus came.
She got on it, twirling my ear muffs around her finger, toying with me, seductively daring me to get on the bus with her.
I can’t believe this girl is only twelve years old.
She stood in the door way saying that if I wanted those ear muffs I was going to have to get on the bus with her or else they were hers.
Please.
Do you have any idea how cool I am going to look when I tell every single dude in my school that Lisa Mason stole my ear muffs?
Are you kidding me?
I am not going to take one step towards that bus. In fact, I am going to take a step back in case you change your mind and decide to toss them to me.
Well the driver closed the door on the bus and Lisa rode away with me standing on the side of the road like I couldn’t believe that she had taken my ear muffs.
That was the best 10 minute walk home from school I had ever had.
For 10 minutes I was everything that I ever wanted to be in life.
There is nothing like having confidence. I felt like I could’ve caught every single snowflake that was falling that afternoon before any one of them touched the ground.
I not only had a conversation with Lisa but her undivided attention for a good 20 minutes. And the cherry on top was that she had jacked me for my ear muffs which guaranteed that I had to have another conversation with her as soon as Monday if only to ask for them back.
I would spend the entire weekend practicing what would come to be my trademark witty one liners and I would stand in front of the mirror and I would imagine playing our game, I called it our “When are you going to give me back my ear muffs?” game.
I would say, “Hey Lisa, where are my ear muffs?”
And she would say, “There in my bedroom Nkrumah. I told you, you can have them back as soon as you come up there and get them.”
Of course we would only play this game within ear shot of any guys that might be vying for her attention.
What’s the point in being the big dog if you aren’t going to mark your territory every chance you get?
Lisa and I had a moment, that much was undeniable. And none one would be able to take away from us.
No one except … my mother.
Yeah, my mother. Of all people I was brought back down to earth by my mother.
When I got home I had to tell somebody what happened. This was the best day of my life.
Unfortunately the only one home was my mother. She would just have to do. So I told her the whole deal, how Lisa was the finest girl in school, how she liked me, how I liked her, how I was going to ask her to go steady and how “you will love her mom” but then I twisted it all up when I also mentioned that Lisa took my ear muffs before she jumped on the city bus and rode away.
She what?
She took my ear muffs. How cool is that?
She what?
She took my ear muffs.
You better get those ear muffs back. Your father and I bought you those ear muffs.
Good thing I didn’t tell her about the Purple Rain cassette.
Huh? I can’t do that. I can’t ask for them back.
The hell you can’t. Why can’t you? Will she beat you up or something?
Damn mom. I know I’m small but damn that was cold. No I don’t want to ask for them back because those ear muffs are the only chance I have with this girl. That is my connection. Those ear muffs are my conversation piece. Without that I am back to square one.
Boy you better get those ear muffs back on Monday.
Please.
My mom and dad had about the as much intention on following through with a threat as I did.
The one thing my parents were horrible at, and I do mean horrible and that was following through with a threat. At least when it came to me. I can’t speak for my younger brothers.
Parenting takes a lot of work. And part of that is making sure that you don’t make more rules than you aren’t willing to enforce.
Well that’s where my parents had gone wrong. They had far more rules than they had any intention of enforcing. All I had to do was figure out which ones were which.
Law enforcement takes time. Time they didn’t spend. They would much rather tell you to do something and just fool themselves into believing that you were doing it, because you were a decent kid and they could trust you to do what they said.
Well not this time.
My mother got on me every single day I came home about those cheap ass ear muffs she probably paid a dollar for at a garage sale and now she was acting like they were ear muffs that were custom made by the lost tribe of Israel especially for my head.
I tried to put it off by telling her anything I could come up with. This was new. Normally she would have moved on to something else by now. Typically my parents had an attention span much like the American public, something is a crisis for about three months then it never comes back up again.
Remember Great White? What happened to every bar/club in America being a potential fire hazard waiting to happen? Remember after the blackout we had a few years back? What happened to our first world society and our third world power grid?
My point exactly.
I wasn’t use to this kind of persistence.
But eventually my mother, miss non-confrontational herself would call my bluff with one of her own.
My mom pulled me aside, looked me dead in the eyes and told me that if I didn’t come back home with those ear muffs she was going to go up to the school and get them back from Lisa herself.
Damn.
Damn.
Damn.
Damn.
Now if I could go back in time I would have called her on that one because at 33 years old I know my mom much better than I did at 12 years old.
Today I like my chances that my mom wouldn’t have done it. At the time I didn’t like any of the odds that you could give me.
Plus now I know that life doesn’t end in middle school. Back then I wasn’t so sure.
But what were the odds she would actually do it?
I didn’t care about the odds.
It’s like when you hear that an asteroid has a 1-n-37 chance of hitting the earth and annihilating all life on the planet. Well some people think those are good odds, one in thirty seven.
Well I think those are horrible odds considering what’s at stake.
Imagine I told you that I wanted to give you 36 of the 37 numbers on the roulette table, but here is the bet, if the marble stops on the one number you don’t have, well then I get to execute your entire family in front of you, then feed them to about a dozen starving pigs that I keep in my backyard while you watch.
Do you still like those odds?
I didn’t think so.
My mom was probably bluffing, like I said my mom is the most confrontation avoiding person I have ever met in my life but I just couldn’t risk it.
So I walked up to Lisa at the end of school that day and I said, “Hey Lisa I really need those ear muffs back.”
And she played along like she normally did, “Nope. I told you what you had to do if you wanted them back. You have to get on the bus with me.”
Damn this was going to hurt worse than I thought.
”Well, as much as I’m sure I would enjoy that Lisa, if you don’t give me my ear muffs back I am pretty sure that I will be going home with you tomorrow and my mother will be sitting right next to us. She told me if I didn’t come home today with those ear muffs she was going to be coming up here to get them herself.”
Lisa got a look on her face that I will never forget.
She turned around, did her locker combination, reached under her books and handed me by ear muffs and that was the last we ever spoke.
I was out of the game just like that.
She had taken my tape but my mom had taken my balls.
I never wore those ear muffs again.
I know my mom knew it too. It must’ve been one of those principle things for her.
She would ask where they were every now and again and they were always in the same spot, in the hallway closet by the front door.
What was I going to do wear them back to school?
She knew better than to ask why I didn’t want to put them on anymore.


Source: Associated Press
same difference

What’s in a name anyway?
Today black folks just make up African sounding names by just changing vowels like they think nobody notices. No, back then if you were going to name your kid something African then it better be in the book.

Part 2: Learning The Rules
“...light-skinned black people usually end up marrying dark-skinned black people and vice versa. Since you are dark-skinned Nkrumah you will probably end up with a light-skinned woman.”
I tried my best to look interested. I really did.

Part 3: My Father
His friends didn’t have names. They had code names.
My father even he had a few nicknames of his own. I had a choice, I could call him Gene, Eugene, Dad, Dap, Father, King Gene or “King Gene Dap Daddy Supreme”. The answered to all of them.

Part 4: White People
I'm jumping a little ahead of myself here but I think this subject should be covered before I go any further.

Part 5: Jimmy the Terrible
There was a price to pay for spending that much time around a kid without mature parental supervision. This cannot be understated.

Part 6: lasting impressions
I said in chapter one, in the first paragraph I believe, that my parents were young, and if you'd keep that in mind it will explain a lot about my life.
Did you think I was kidding?